


and so, i made my choice

by ace_thetical



Series: and what would you call beautiful? [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, One Shot, Zaraki Kenpachi - Freeform, abarai renji - Freeform, but he's only mentioned in passing, ikkayumi, there's a fight but i can't write action so ;u;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_thetical/pseuds/ace_thetical
Summary: When a long-kept secret is revealed, Yumichika is forced to fight for his place amongst his squad. His opponent?Madarame Ikkaku.
Relationships: Ayasegawa Yumichika/Madarame Ikkaku
Series: and what would you call beautiful? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209605
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	and so, i made my choice

**Author's Note:**

> so,,, this is basically my first fanfic so it might not be the best :") 
> 
> ahahah i love these two to bits and desperately need more content of them in the fandom

It had happened, at last. He had imagined this scenario many times before- how could he not have?- but he hadn't anticipated his state of mind to be so...

_Tranquil._

Tranquil, and resigned.

A small voice in his head chose to liken him to a prisoner who had accepted his fate, and was patiently awaiting the executioner's blade to strike at his neck. Yumichika ignored that voice, and continued to stride across the training grounds, head held high despite the glares all around threatening to pull him down.

The time had come for him to either prove himself, or die trying.

But he wasn't afraid. There were less beautiful ways to die, Yumichika believed, than to die at the hands of Madarame Ikkaku.

* * *

"A kidou blade."

It wasn't a question, not really, but that didn't stop Yumichika from affirming it with a quiet _'yes'_. Quiet, as if his voice raised to anything above a whisper would break through the thin veil of calmness that the other man was so desperately struggling to uphold.

"Why would you hide it?" he asked. The _'from me'_ at the end of the sentence didn't need to be said out loud for them to both know it was there.

 _I hid it for you_ , Yumichika thought, _I did it all for you._

But his thoughts and feelings of desperate devotion passed by silently, as they had for so long. "I had to protect my pride," he said.

What was one more lie?

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. It was a sound lie- Yumichika's pride was nothing to be questioned- and the smaller man could see that his old friend believed every word.

"Then," he finally said, standing up to leave the small hospital ward, "You know what you have to do"

He did.

"This time next week, an hour before dusk. Meet me at the Squad 11 training grounds."

Yumichika bowed his head in acceptance of the terms.

"If you can beat me without using it- without using _kidou_ \- then you'll have proved that you're strong enough to stay. If not..."

_'I'll either leave with my honour torn to pieces, or I'll have died in the process of trying to maintain it.'_

His friend- _but he couldn't call him that, not anymore_ \- didn't look back even once as he left.

* * *

Resolved violet eyes met troubled black, like the sky at dusk kissing the dark sea. Ikkaku's eyes held nothing but turmoil, though Yumichika knew better than to hope that would hinder his performance. No matter what, they would both fight this fight as if it were their last. Grimly, he smiled. That could even prove to be the case, should things go wrong.

Other members of their squad had gathered around the grounds, making sure to leave a large distance between them and the two opponents. Out of the corner of his eye- _he refused to turn his head fully and break eye contact_ \- Yumichika spotted a bright, pinkish-red blob amongst the sea of brown and black in the crowd. It seemed that Abarai had come to watch the spectacle, and if he was here, it wouldn't be a stretch to believe that others would be here as well. This fight- like no other- would wound them all, leaving behind bitter memories and everlasting scars.

However, that didn't matter. Not to him.

Their captain barked the orders to begin, and a moment passed before the clash of their swords meeting rang throughout the grounds.

Scars were beautiful, especially on men such as them.

* * *

Yumichika slept restlessly in that hospital bed- no man with sense would have been able to sleep in peace after having devoted their life to a secret, and then have that devotion thrown to the ground and just as well as spat on.

It was an ugly feeling, not at all like what he was used to.

After the fifth seat had been discharged, and news of the coming fight had spread, dirty looks and terribly hidden mutters from his _oh-so-dear-and-faithful squad_ were thrown at him everywhere he went. Though he, too, disliked his shikai, he found their attitude to be extremely ungrateful. If it weren't for his Ruri'iro Kujaku, the owners of those very same ugly looks and words would have been soaking the ground with their blood.

Worse, even, was that Ikkaku refused to go near him unless it was for their mandatory squad duties. Even then, the other man was stiff and unfriendly, as if Yumichika were something unsightly, like the men the two of them would so often mock in the past for their shortcomings in both strength and grace.

Life outside of his squad , however, went on as usual for those few precious days he had before the awaited showdown, if Yumichika chose to ignore the sympathetic and sorry looks from his friends. He appreciated their kindness, but he would prefer even his squad's coarse treatment than be pitied.

Pity made him feel weak, and ugliness was born of weakness.

* * *

"Nobiro, Hozukimaru!"

"Sake... Fuji Kujaku."

Ikkaku's movements were calculated and absolute, much like they had always been. Their fight mirrored so many past spars- Ikkaku would strike, attempting to catch Yumichika off guard, and Yumichika would see through his attack and dodge, then attempt to land a counter attack. The sensation was so achingly familiar that Yumichika almost failed to notice one minor detail.

The passion that was usually so prevalent in Ikkaku's every fight was... gone. There was nothing there. The power, the finesse, it was all entirely empty because each time the third-seat landed a hit, the fire was _missing_ . His smile- that beautiful smile- was lost, as if snatched from him by some cruel thief. If anything, the third-seat's face looked grim, as if his eyes held...

_Sadness._

"Agh!"

Yumichika had ducked a hit a moment too late, and was made to curl in on himself to lessen the impact as his body hit the ground, leaving little time for him to barely roll out of the way of the next quick assault of the sansetsukon. Around them, their audience remained silent, solemn, and all that could be heard were the soft huffs of agitation as he struggled to dodge each attack, which were growing in power and precision with each lunge.

 _Ikkaku_ , he thought, _You really are going to kill me, aren't you?_

As if in response, Ikkaku charged, his spear aimed for Yumichika's chest.

But a calm had settled over Yumichika's heart. And he was ready.

* * *

Yumichika chose not to train for the fight. There was nothing he could learn in a few days that could make him any stronger. As for his belongings, he had a list prepared in the very likely case that he lost, and Ikkaku proved to be unmerciful. Because a fight in the 11th meant death or surrender.

No soldier had ever surrendered in the 11th. Yumichika would rather see himself die than disgrace himself any further by being the first.

For Yachiru, he left an ornate comb that he had refused to use in case it wore out. The girl would grow up one day, and Yumichika hoped that his eye for beauty would have worn off on her in the years that he had known her.

It had been a gift from another time, even before he had met Ikkaku, when he was just a hired assassin of the Rukongai. He had been assigned to the murder of a young noble girl, but when the time came, he just wasn't strong enough to slit her throat. The comb had been a gift of thanks for her life.

His taichou had no care for material things, he knew, but even then it would feel wrong to leave him nothing.

In a hidden box beneath his floorboards, he kept one of the most precious things a Soul Reaper could have. A remnant from his old life. He had no memory of what had transpired before his death, but all that he knew was that when he had passed on to this world, he had passed on with the dagger in his hand.

And the third, and final possession he would part with.

When he had first met Ikkaku, the two were at odds almost constantly- Ikkaku refused to acknowledge the other man as a proper fighter unless he fought him himself. Yumichika, of course, stubbornly refused until the other man relented and acknowledged the value of his beauty. However, when Yumichika had finally relented, he regretted not having accepted sooner. The fight was beautiful in every sense of the word.

A few days after the fight, Ikkaku had approached Yumichika and handed him a peacock carved from wood, failing to hide the slight pink tingeing his cheeks. They had both felt something change between them, then. And that something had now changed once again.

Now, he stroked the peacock, the woodwork still smooth under his fingertips, even after all these years. Perhaps Ikkaku would treasure it, hold it close to his heart, or perhaps he would throw it away along with the other rubbish, disgusted. Yumichika didn't care either way. As long as Ikkaku understood what it meant.

Because Yumichika was determined that this final secret would not be buried with him.

* * *

The tip of the sansetsukon halted, just before it could pierce through Yumichika's flesh.

A pin drop silence.

"I surrender."

The silence lasted a moment more, before confusion and indignance broke out amongst those in the audience.

"What-"

"Surrender?"

"Madarame-san-"

"What?" Ikkaku barked at the audience, "I've surrendered, haven't I? That means that he's the winner, and this fight is over."

The crown begun to murmur and even shout in protest- they may have expected the kidou-user to end this by surrendering, but their infamously stubborn third seat...?

Ikkaku's shikai returned to it's sealed form, and he slid it back into its hilt before offering his hand to the defeated Yumichika- _but he wasn't defeated, he was the winner_ \- who still lay staggered on the ground.

"Get up, Yumi." he said- his voice was soft, and his eyes held none of that coldness from earlier, "You were strong enough to last that long against me going all out, when you yourself were being forced to hold back. It wasn't a fair fight, but you were strong, so you've won. You're staying."

Yumichika's mind was blank, but his heart was beating hard. He had surrendered, he had surrendered, Madarame-fucking-Ikkaku _surrendered_.

"Why would you _surrender_ for me, Ikkaku?" he asked. 

Because, why would he? Yes, surrender was _permissible_ , but in their division it was just as well as forbidden. Forbidden like his kidou.

"I didn't _plan_ on it. It just... happened." Ikkaku said, and if it weren't for the excuse of having an after-battle flush Yumichika could have sworn that Ikkaku was _flustered_. "This division, no matter how many meatheads it has, _needs_ you, Yumi."

When those eyes met his, Yumichika noticed that they resembled less of the black and stormy ocean and more reminiscent of the still sky at night.

" _I_ need you." those midnight eyes said.

_Ah._

Yumichika wiped the dirt off of his face to hide the small smile dancing across his lips, then he took the other man's hand.

Though he hadn't died, perhaps his remaining secret was closer to blooming than he thought.

All anyone could do was stare at the third-seat in dumbfounded silence as he helped his opponent up from the ground, then stared expectedly at their captain.

" _Oh, what the hell..._ " Zaraki muttered. "Fifth-seat Ayasegawa Yumichika of the 11th Division is the winner!"

The audience groaned as the third and fifth-seat, both without any extreme fatal injuries, shunpoed off to get healed. What had they expected? Bloodshed? For the fight to escalate to the extent of them having an excuse to join in?

Zaraki yelled at them to shut the fuck up and get their sorry asses back to work, before lumbering off. These saps were gonna be the death of him, he grumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> fin~
> 
> tysm for reading :D  
> kudos and comments would be appreciated <3


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